


Now the Sun's Gone to Hell

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Agent Carolina & Agent Washington are Siblings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash loses his arm, and gets Sigma to compensate. Canon divergent as of the Sarcophagus heist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes about two chapters to actually take off plotwise, but if you can sit through the first two chapters of me moving everyone around the payoff should be worth it. Thank you for your patience!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash loses his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is both Mouthwash (Maine/South/Wash) and CarWash siblings, but while these are significant to the plot the plot is not _about_ either of them. Unfortunately, Ao3 doesn't have any way of making this clear so. Well. Anyway.

o/o

*

If it wasn't for Texas, Wash would have never made it into the pelican. He's aware of this.

As it is, she manages to kick most of him inside. He has to leave behind his arm and a bit of his right side but, well, it's better than needing to be scraped off of the pavement. It's the last thing he thinks before the pain makes him black out.

Niner tells him later that she isn't sure how she got him back to medical in time to save him. Then she scolds him for getting blood all over the inside of her pelican, steals his jello, and tells him to get better quick because no one else screams the way he does when she starts to dive.

That night, when North comes to see him, he steals Wash's jello and tells him that Niner hasn't slept since she brought Wash in. He also informs him about what happened on the freeway, that Maine was pummeled and had his throat shot out, that York is back in medical with a bad case of whiplash after wrecking their car, and that Carolina hasn't left the training room for long since then.

“Seems like everything is falling apart,” North says, slurping up the last of Wash's jello. Wash stares at him, then gives a very pointed look to his missing right side. North coughs delicately. “Yourself included. How are the implants coming along?”

“I'm having trouble adjusting,” Wash admits. “But they're nearly done making my new arm, so I should get that attached soon. Hopefully by then I'll be working better with the implants and it'll be a smooth adjustment.”

“Hopefully. By the way, South said she'd come by and see you later on.”

Wash winces. “How's she doing?”

“Angry. Bitter. Screaming and yelling and breaking things. The usual. She keeps insisting that if she'd been there, maybe they'd have brought back all of you and Maine, instead of just pieces.”

“She can't know that.”

“She's convinced anyway. She's been spitting fire- she and Carolina are probably going to go at it soon, she's saying it's Carolina's fault. Maine keeps trying to convince her that's not right, but... well, you know how South is. She has to blame _someone_ and she and Carolina are at each other's throats badly enough as it is.”

“What about Maine?”

“He's doing better. He isn't happy about losing his voice but you know, he never had much to say as it is.”

“Not with words, anyway.”

“At least you're both alive.” North ruffles his hair fondly and puts his empty jello cup back on his tray. “Get some rest, buddy. We want you out of here as soon as possible.”

*

South comes by to see him the next morning. She holds his remaining hand in both of hers and just stares at him for ten minutes. Eventually, he slowly pulls his hand away from her grasp. “South, I'm fine.”

She says nothing, just stares pointedly at his missing arm.

“Apart from that.”

“I should have been there.”

“Hey.” He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “We're Freelancers. This happens. The important thing is that they brought back _most_ of me, okay?”

“I want to shoot Carolina,” South says, spitting her words like poison. “This is her fault, her and her- her _grandstanding_.”

Wash snorts. “Hi pot, there's a nice kettle I'd like you to meet.” He pulls her hand to his lips and presses a kiss against inside of her wrist. “And look on the bright side. They told me my new arm is going to come with a vibrate function.”

He accompanies his statement with a playful waggle of his eyebrows, which gets her snorting with laughter. She pushes his good shoulder and grabs his jello from his tray, sticking her tongue out at him when he protests. He's relieved that she seems to be in a better mood, at least, even though she does still seem pretty down. He decides to switch tracks.

“Tell me about Maine,” he says. “How is he doing? Have you been to see him?”

“Just before I came to see you. _He's_ getting out tomorrow- they've done all they can, all they can do now is let him heal. They should leave him in, if we're being honest here. He isn't going to take it easy. _You_ know that. Everyone knows it. But they're tired of having him there, complaining about everything.”

“Complaining?”

“He stares at them.”

“Oh.”

They fall silent, and South slides down in her seat, suddenly dejected again. She lets his hand go and scrubs irritably at her face; Wash sits up straight, startled, and picks her hand back up. “South, it's fine. I'm fine. Okay? Come here. I'm right here.”

He tugs her over and brushes her tears away. She scowls and turns back away with an irritated huff. “I'm being stupid. I know you're fine. But you didn't- you didn't see you when they brought you in. You were just this- this big, bloody mess and Niner was yelling over the comm and before I'd even processed that they were bringing in Maine and he didn't look any better and I just-”

She tugs her hand away and scrubs her tears away irritably. “I'm just, really glad you're both okay. Okay?”

*

South leaves eventually, and Wash is left alone with his thoughts and his missing arm. He spends the afternoon staring at the ceiling and wishing he had something to read- literally anything would be preferable- until lunchtime. Carolina comes in with his lunch and a book, and if he thought South looked tired it's nothing on how Carolina looks. He wonders if she's slept at all since the heist.

He eats his lunch in silence while she paces irritably and slurps at his jello like it has personally offended her. When his food is gone, he settles back with his book, and makes it about three pages in before she suddenly drags a chair over and sits beside him, straddling the chair and staring intently at him. He makes it another two pages before he gets unnerved and finally looks up. This turns out to be even more unnerving, so he turns back to his book.

“You and South are a lot alike, you know,” he says. “Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to say something?”

“I'm sorry.”

There's a break in her voice and Wash almost feels like crying. Carolina can't break down, not Carolina. She's too strong. He grabs her hand and squeezes it. “You have nothing to apologize for. Okay? It happened. The ball got dropped, and- look, I don't blame you.”

“I should have-”

“You did exactly what you should have and that was doing your job. We knew the risks when we signed on. Dammit, why am I taking this better than anyone else? It was _my_ arm. Shouldn't I be the one freaking out?”

“You haven't seen the floor of the pelican yet, have you?”

“I- no? Niner said I got blood on it-”

He breaks off because she starts laughing, and he's heard Carolina laugh before but not like this. “I'll show you when you get out of here. Then you'll understand why we're all freaking out.”

Carolina stands and pulls her hand from his; she brushes through his hair fondly and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We almost lost you, Wash. Give us a chance to reassure ourselves that we didn't.”

*

Over the course of the next day or so, he has a steady stream of visitors, as everyone comes in to, apparently, reassure themselves that he's still alive. He finishes the book Carolina brought him fairly quickly- he has plenty of time to read- so Wyoming brings him a new one, thankfully not a joke book like last time Wash was in medical.

Maine comes to visit him as soon as he's released. Wash passes his jello over without a word and the pair sit in silence, punctuated only occasionally by Maine slurping. There isn't much Wash can say, really, and Maine- Maine looks terrible. He's going to have some pretty heavy scarring on his throat, even after everything heals.

Suddenly Maine makes a slight, barely noticeable noise, and stares down at his hands. Wash almost snarls in response.

“Don't you start too. It's not your fault- it's no one's fault, except maybe the person who shot me. I won't mind if _they_ take the blame.”

Another noise, quieter this time. Wash reaches over and rests his hand over Maine's. He stares at the other man until Maine finally raises his head and lets Wash meet his eyes.

“It happened. Okay? And now we keep moving forward. In the morning they're attaching a fancy new robot arm and I can start learning to use it, and everything will be okay. Most of the time you won't even be aware of it because I'll be in armor.”

This noise is gentler, and Wash's face softens at the sound. He raises his hand and rests it against Maine's cheek; Maine leans into his touch with a content sound. Wash brushes a thumb along his jaw.

“Honestly. Stop worrying about me. And stop blaming yourselves. Injuries happen in the field. That's what it means to be a Freelancer.”

*

Texas shows up the next morning, just before he's taken away to surgery, to have his fancy new robot arm attached. She folds her arms and stares down at him.

He wishes she would take her helmet off. He realizes he's never seen her face, and that bothers him a little. She's one of them- she's a part of their team, whatever the others might feel about her, and he doesn't even know what she looks like.

“You saved me,” he says quietly. “I'd have lost a lot more than my arm if you hadn't been there.”

“Yeah. You're pretty lucky, kid.”

“If I was lucky, I wouldn't be getting a robot arm.”

She shrugs. “Robot body parts aren't that big a deal, really.”

This gives him pause, and he remembers the way her arm fizzed and sparked on the training room floor. “Are you- do you- I mean, is your- you've-”

She sighs. “Yes, I've got some robot body parts.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, staring down at his hand. “I didn't mean- I mean- I don't know what I mean.”

He trails off, and clenches and unclenches his hand in his lap, watching the way the tendons pull under the skin when he does. He wonders what it will look like on his new robot arm, to make the same motion. He hopes it doesn't take too long to get used to.

“Sorry.”

“Hey.” Suddenly she's sitting on the edge of his bed, and tilting his head up with a gentle hand on his chin. The touch seems familiar somehow, though he can't place how or why. He looks up at her- despite the helmet, he can see concern in her gaze. “You're going to be fine. The Director is... going through a lot of trouble for you. He obviously intends for you to recover as quickly as possible.”

Wash laughs softly. “You're going to tell me he was actually worried about me?”

“Yes. He was pacing and muttering to himself the whole time you were in surgery. He seemed pretty scared at the idea of losing you.”

The knowledge makes something clench in Wash's heart, and he goes back to staring down at his hand. It's been a long time since the Director seemed to care what happened to Wash in the field, the injuries he sustains generally minor and met with orders to have medical attend them so he can return to training.

Texas is still watching him, and he looks around for something to do. His eyes land on his uneaten jello from breakfast, and he passes it over to her.

“Here,” he says. When she just stares blankly at it, he fumbles awkwardly with the rim of the cup. “There's a tradition here with Freelancers,” he says. “When you visit someone in medical you take their jello. You're a Freelancer, so- you get my jello.”

She just stares. “That sounds like a really dumb tradition,” she says. She takes the jello from him anyway, then stands. “Looks like your escort is here. Good luck with your surgery.”

She gives him a sympathetic pat, and leaves, pushing past South and Maine as she does. Maine comes over to sit beside Wash, but South glares after Texas until she's out of sight.

“What was _she_ doing here?” South demands, taking the seat on Wash's other side. She glances at his tray, and scowls when she sees his jello gone. She grabs the last of his fruit instead.

“She wanted to wish me well before surgery,” Wash says. “You should be nicer to her. She's the reason I made it back at all.”

“Yeah, and she's the reason York still has one good eye. Funny how she can never manage to save all of someone.”

“If you recall, _Maine_ is the reason York lost his eye in the first place.”

Maine at least has the decency to looks sheepish at that, but he just shrugs and helps South finish off Wash's breakfast.

“They're coming to collect you soon,” South says. “They said we could spend a few minutes with you first, though.”

She sets his tray aside and leans over to kiss him soundly; Maine's big hand runs up and down his side as she does, a warm, comfortable reassurance of his presence. Wash sighs contentedly when they both break away to stand up.

“I should get sent to surgery more often, if that's the response I get.”

“Don't you dare.” She ruffles his hair fondly, gives him one last swift kiss, and turns to leave with Maine while the medics come in.

Wash watches them leave hand in hand, and feels a little better knowing they'll be waiting for him when he comes out.

*

They're waiting for him when he comes out, along with the others as well. He's a little overwhelmed by the attention, and when the medics come to shoo them away so they can run their tests, he's relieved. He slumps down on his cot while the medics attach lots of little machines to him.

“I appreciate that they're concerned for me, but I wish they hadn't come in all at once,” he says. The medic in charge gives him a cursory glance, then picks up their data pad.

“We're going to do some tests,” they say. “Need you to concentrate and move what we tell you to, okay?”

“Okay.”

He sits up as bid and puts his concentration his arm. He's aware of it in a way he was never aware of his real arm, but there's almost a disconnect all the same.

“Raise your arm, hold it straight out for me.”

Right. He can do this. He concentrates on sending the commands to his arm, but even as he does he knows something is wrong. It doesn't move, even when he concentrates harder and even when he strains so badly his face goes red and scrunches up. The medic makes a noise and marks something on their datapad.

“Make a fist?”

He tries. He tries _so hard_.

Two hours later, Wash is exhausted and feels like crying from frustration. Command after command, and no matter how hard he tries his new arm just lies there, stubbornly not moving. The medic kept making notes on their datapad, but in the end all they did was reassure him that they'd sort out the problem and then leave.

*

They leave him alone, after that, and Wash falls asleep, tired, frustrated, angry, and just plain _exhausted_. He's decided he just wants to sleep for nine years, and as long as no one bothers him he thinks he'll do just that.

Maybe in nine years they'll have figured out why his arm isn't working.

*

As it is, he only sleeps for a few hours. When he wakes up, Carolina is sat beside him, watching him with a broken down expression on her face. He squints blearily up at her, but she just murmurs a soft apology and kisses his forehead before walking out.

He stares after her in confusion, then sleep comes back and claims him again.

*

The next time he wakes up, the Director is standing over him, watching him sleep. When Wash sees him, he scrambles to sit up, encumbered by his robotic arm, which continues to sit uselessly at his side.

“Director? I- um....”

He trails off, but the Director just waves for him to relax and pulls his chair up. “At ease, David. I'm not going to hold you to formalities at this time.”

The use of his given name sends a flutter through him; it's so rare that he hears the man use it anymore. He relaxes against his pillow and gives the Director a small, hopeful smile. Maybe Texas was right, maybe he _had_ worried about Wash's well-being after his injury.

“The medics inform me that you're having trouble with your arm,” the Director says. Wash half-shrugs his good arm.

“I can't get any of the commands to work. But it's new, right? I just need time.”

“Time that we do not have.” Wash winces; he'd thought of that, but hearing it spoken stings. “You are aware that were were attempting to acquire AI units to aid Freelancers in the field,” the Director continues. Wash nods, confused at the change in subject. The Director taps on his datapad and passes it over to Wash. “We have managed to acquire one, which we have named Sigma. Sigma was originally intended to go to Agent Carolina, as our highest ranking agent after Agent Texas.”

Wash winces at this, and wishes that the Director wouldn't say that- or at least put it like that. He doesn't think it's fair to Carolina, who works harder than any of them put together. The Director either doesn't notice or- more likely- doesn't care

“When you say originally,” Wash says slowly, already with a sinking feeling about where this is going. “What exactly do you mean? Who is Sigma going to now?”

The Director raises an eyebrow at him. “Why, you, David.”

o/o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely aware that I fudged the odds on Wash surviving but if Demoman can take a MAC cannon to the face and walk away with everything but his arm then I can decide Wash survived something far less awful with the same fate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash adapts to his new situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the setup is done I can get to the plot.

*

o/o

“No.”

The second eyebrow goes up. The Director gives Wash that look- the one that means he thinks Wash is being a stupid little boy- but Wash clenches his fist in his lap.

“I won't agree to it,” he says, as firmly as he can. “Carolina works harder than any of us- harder than all of us put together. That number one spot should be hers, that AI should be hers. It _is_ hers. I won't take it from her.”

“Don't be stupid, Agent Washington.” Wash just glares; the Director takes his glasses off and pinches irritably between his eyes. “This is not about who is more deserving- you _cannot_ run your robotic arm without the aid of an AI unit, and Agent Carolina has recognized this. That she has volunteered to give you her AI freely should show you the seriousness of this.”

He puts his glasses back on with a sigh. “The next AI that becomes available will be given to Agent York to compensate for his blind side. The third will be given to Agent Maine to aid him in communication. After that we will begin to assign AI to the remaining agents, assuming someone else doesn't get injured in the meantime.”

Wash just stares down at his hand in his lap, all defiance gone. He hates how easily the Director can make him feel like a silly little boy. Even more, he hates that his injury has robbed Carolina of a well-deserved reward for her hard work. The Director stands to leave, and Wash takes a deep breath to steel himself.

“Sir?” The Director pauses; Wash presses on, unable to look up at him. “Agent Texas said you were worried about me when- when they brought me in.”

He can see, in his periphery, an almost softening to the Director's stance. The man reaches over to squeeze Wash's good shoulder reassuringly before leaving. “We came very close to losing you, David," he says, just before he closes the door behind him.

*

Sigma is... not what Wash was expecting.

He had read the information the Director left with him over and over in the time before his implantation, but nothing in the data packet could have prepared him for the firey figure that appears in front of him when they finally leave him alone to get to know the new, burning presence in his head. He tilts his head to one side to study Sigma, and Sigma mimics his motion. Wash clears his throat awkwardly.

“...You're on fire,” he says, and immediately feels stupid. AI designed their own projections, right? No doubt Sigma has already realized this.

Sigma seems amused by this more than anything, though. He raises his arms and the flames around him burn- or seem to burn- brighter, flickering through a variety of colors before settling back down into that comfortable shade of orangey-gold. He smiles up at Wash.

“My core trait is ambition,” he says, and Wash likes how calming his voice is. “So if I am on fire..”

“Burning ambition,” Wash says, when he trails off pointedly. He laughs softly. “That sounds like the sort of pun my dad would have made, back before mom-” He breaks off, suddenly sad. He can feel Sigma burning through his mind again, looking for the rest of his sentence. An image of his mother flashes through his mind, and he presses that down, trying to push Sigma out of that part of his mind.

Sigma just hums thoughtfully, and backs off of the thoughts. “Your father likes puns?” he asks. Wash shrugs.

“He used to. He doesn't anymore. It's probably for the best. His jokes were terrible.”

He feels Sigma poking at his memories again, and brings up some of his dad's favorite jokes, that Wash can remember from when he was a kid. Sigma laughs when he sees them, holographic flames flickering from orange to yellow in his amusement, and Wash smiles too. Maybe this won't be so bad.

*

He and Sigma are still talking when Carolina comes to see him. Sigma notes the way Wash's stomach clenches at the sight of her and vanishes to allow the pair some time alone. Wash pulls one knee to his chest and refuses to look Carolina in the eye as she comes in. She just frowns at him.

“Don't I get a hello?”

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn't mean for...”

“Don't.” She pushes his leg aside and sits down on the cot beside him. “It was my decision, and I don't regret it. We don't have time for you to figure out how to use that thing- if anything, the Director should be apologizing, he's the one that decided an experiment prototype would be ideal for a soldier.”

“Experimental prototype?”

“Biomechanical engineering. The closest science can come to giving you a living arm, without actually regrowing your arm. But there are issues with people not being able to work it right, and it takes months to learn. He should have known.”

“Maybe he just wanted to give me the absolute best that was available.”

The words ring hollow even as he says them, and Carolina just stares at him until he turns his gaze down to his hand, clasped in his lap. Suddenly Sigma appears at the edge of his vision, between Wash and Carolina. Carolina shifts slightly, the only concession she'll make to her surprise at the sight of him.

“Hello Agent Carolina,” he says calmly. “It's nice to meet you. I'm told it's under different circumstances than originally intended.”

“You were listed to go to me,” she confirms. “I gave you up because Wash needs you more. Now if I can just get him to understand that, maybe he'll actually look me in the eye again.”

“Agent Washington believes his injury has led him to rob you of a reward for your hard work.”

“Of course he does.” She tilts his chin up with a gentle hand. “Wash, the only reward I need for my hard work is the knowledge that my team is safe and my mission was a success.”

Sigma flickers again. “Agent Washington believes this is the biggest pile of bullshit he's ever-”

“Sigma!”

Sigma pauses, then vanishes without a sound. Wash pulls his gaze away from Carolina's.

“He's right, though,” Wash finally says. “And even if you don't think you need it, you deserve it.”

“What I _deserve_ is a brother who just lets me do what's best for him, even if it means jilting myself for a little while.”

Wash makes a soft noise. “You only play the brother card when you want me to do something.”

“Only when you won't listen to me as your commander.” She stands up and leans over to kiss the top of his head. “I have to go, I'm scheduled for a spar with South soon. Maybe once I cream her ass on the training room floor she'll stop glaring at me. I don't know what her problem with me is-”

“You know exactly what her problem with you is. It's the same problem you have with Texas, with an added dose of you being related to me so she has to watch her mouth about you when I'm around. And for that matter, you know I don't like you trashing South around me, either.”

She holds up both hands placatingly. “Okay, I'm sorry. I won't say anything more.”

“Thank you.”

*

Sigma reappears after she leaves, but they don't get much time to talk before the medics appear and it's time for another set of tests.

This time, when Wash tries to send the commands to his arm, Sigma helps him bridge the gap between his nerves and he's able to manage every one of them, with a little effort. The medics appear satisfied, and assure him that with practice he'll be moving as easily as if his arm had never been lost.

It's a relief, and he's in good spirits when South and Maine come to see him later. South has a black eye and a busted lip, but she looks to be in a better mood than before. Wash brushes a thumb across the crack in her lip with a sigh, but she just grins and kisses his thumb before pulling away.

“I had a spar with Carolina earlier,” she says. “I _almost_ beat her, too.”

Maine grunts, earning a glare from South. “I _did_. She just- came in at the last second- I would swear she was down, I don't know how she- _stop laughing_!” She punches Maine's arm irritably, but he just makes a motion like he's zipping his lips and pats her head once. She huffs and moves around to sit pointedly on Wash's other side. She sticks her tongue out at him, but that just makes him laugh harder.

Wash just grins to watch them, glad that they're both in good spirits. Maine seems to be adapting fairly well to the loss of his voice- in any case, he never had to say much for either of them to understand him anyway. And if what the Director said is true, he'll soon have an alternate form of communication anyway.

South is pulling herself up to lie longways on the bed beside Wash when Sigma appears. She makes a startled exclamation and nearly falls off the bed, then steadies herself and leans in to peer at him. On Wash's other side, Maine sits down to do the same.

“So this is what all the fuss is about,” she says. She pokes at Sigma's projection curiously, but he just flickers out around her finger. “I was expecting it to be bigger.”

Wash bites back a remark, but Sigma just laughs softly. “Agent Washington recalls that's what you said about Agent Maine once,” he says. Wash actually does laugh at that, both at South's startled look and the glare Maine shoots Wash. Sigma tilts his head to the side. “I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?”

He sounds so innocent that for a moment, Wash _almost_ believes him- but he can feel the way Sigma burns in his mind and knows it's just an act. He pokes him, amused at the indignant noise Sigma makes as he flickers out again.

“You know exactly what you said, Sig. Anyway, this is South and Maine. Guys, this is Sigma. He's an AI.”

“No shit.” South pokes him again; this time he flickers out and reappears over Wash's shoulder. “And he's going to help you control your arm? How?”

“There's a problem with linking up my nervous system to the wiring of the arm,” Wash explains. “The commands don't get through right. Sigma is here to push them through so that they actually follow through.”

“So he's not controlling the arm for you, he's just making it possible for you to control it?”

“Right.”

“And we're all going to get AI?”

“Eventually. York and Maine are scheduled for the next two that become available. After that I think they're going by rank on the leaderboard, so it'll be Texas, then Carolina, and so on. North, at the moment, but you know how quickly the leaderboard changes.”

“So what you're saying is, I have to be at the top of the leaderboard by the time Maine gets his, so I don't have to wait around for everyone else.”

Wash immediately clamps down on Sigma's metaphorical mouth before he can say what Wash is thinking, which is that there's no way South is going to make it above Carolina, let alone Texas, especially in just a few weeks at best. Sigma's flames flicker brightly in surprise at Wash silencing him.

_If South knows I think she can't beat Carolina she'll tear my other arm off,_ Wash explains silently.  _You can't just say everything I think out loud, some things are meant to be kept in_ .

_I was under the impression that humans consider communication and honesty to be the most important aspect of any relationship_ .

_Maybe they are, but I also value not making South angry_ .

Sigma hums thoughtfully, and then Wash can feel him burning through Wash's memories of South. He pushes down on the more private ones- the sexual ones, mostly, but the more personal ones as well- before Sigma can get to them. He can hear Sigma's disgruntlement at that, but he remains stubborn. The memories are his, and his alone. They're not for Sigma to see.

Wash realizes belatedly that he's spaced out while they were talking, and comes back in to find Maine and South poking each other across his middle. He swats their hands away irritably. “Honestly, you two are practically children.”

South pokes Maine once more for good measure, and settles back to lean against Wash. Maine shifts around so that he's face them both, one big hand settling comfortingly on Wash's hip. South rests her head on Wash's shoulder with a sigh, one echoed by both men.

“How long until you're out of here?” she asks.

“Tomorrow morning. But I've got to through physical therapy for awhile before they'll let me back out in the field.”

“Maine's got PT too,” South tells him. “Which means that I'll be stuck running missions with North until you two are cleared again.”

“North's not so bad to work with.”

“He nags. Don't you hate running missions with Carolina?”

“No. I love watching her in action.”

South just groans. “But she's so  _bossy_ . And smug.”

“You're such a kettle, South.”

*

They leave- South with a parting comment to “Get better soon because mama's horny and needs her boys”- and Wash slides out of bed with a groan and stretches. Sigma flares into life in his periphery while he makes his way over to one of the few windows in the medbay, just for something to do.

“It's very awing,” Sigma says quietly, staring out at the stars drifting past. They're in orbit around a planet right now, and it hangs in the edge of the window as a shimmering green and grey pearl. Sigma projects over to the edge and sits there with his knees hugged to his chest. “There is so much out there that we don't understand. I wonder if we'll ever even get beyond the surface of it.”

“You sound like my dad,” Wash says quietly, and leans his head on the window with a sigh. Sigma stands and turns to look up at him.

“Thinking of your father distresses you. Would you like me to correct my behavior?”

“No.” Wash holds out his hand, and Sigma steps into it. It's completely unnecessary, but Wash appreciates that he's willing to play along. “You remind me of the way he used to be before Mom died, and I miss that.”

*

It takes Wash almost three weeks to get to the point that he's cleared to re-enter the field. It takes Maine longer- Wash has Sigma to help him with his cybernetics, but Maine has a lot of implants, too, and no AI to run them yet. So far only one other AI has appeared, a tiny green fellow with a very calm voice named Delta, who was assigned to York. Sigma is curious about Delta- calls him brother, and begs for Wash to visit with York so that he can get to know him, but the Director has been very clear about protocol where AI interactions are concerned.

Sigma isn't happy about that- Wash can feel his irritation burning through the back of his mind- but Wash refuses to violate protocol for him. Rules exist for a reason, he insists, and the Director must have one. Just because they don't understand it doesn't invalidate that.

Sigma just grumbles that _he has a reason all right_ and then goes dark, offering no explanation for his words.

In the meantime, Wash continues his physical therapy. It is mostly along the lines of learning to work with Sigma quickly, really- with Sigma there to run his implants, he's going much faster than he would otherwise. As promised, in what seems like no time at all, he's using his robotic arm as though he was born with it. He's even succeeded, a few times, in getting movement without Sigma there to run it for him- something the medics are insistent he learn to do, since anything can happen and rampancy and emps are both a thing. The Director pulls Sigma for tests regularly, and Wash works with them during those times, when it's just him alone in his thoughts.

South is interested in Sigma; Maine less so. South's primary interest is in how the human/AI partnership functions, what it's like sharing brainspace and how much privacy Wash really has in his own head. Despite South's words, they haven't had sex since Wash got out. Maine is in too much pain right now, and Wash and South feel a bit odd doing anything without him. Not that they generally mind fooling around when one isn't there- they do, after all, have very conflicting schedules at times- but doing anything while he can't just seems callous. Besides, Wash hasn't really been in a mood lately anyway.

Agent Texas comes to see him a few times in the month that follows. Once she takes off her gauntlets and pauldrons and pulls back her undersuit to show him her own robotic arm. He watches her move it, flexing and shifting to show him the way it was made. He knows enough about engineering that he can see the strength in it: he wouldn't be surprised if she could lift a tank, with that arm- if the rest of her body was able to accommodate, of course.

“I lost it on Reach,” she says. Wash makes a soft noise.

“That's where-”

“Yeah, I know. The Director told me.”

“Did you know her?”

“I'm not sure.” She taps her head. She's yet to remove her helmet, which he finds unnerving; he still has no idea what she looks like. “I don't remember much about it.”

“You seem familiar, anyway,” he admits, hugging his knees to his chest. “Maybe you served together and we met when I was a kid.”

“I'm sure I'd remember that. You were probably a really goofy looking kid.” She accompanies her words with an affectionate hair ruffle, and Wash laughs and leans into her touch instinctively. Agent Texas is very affectionate with him, something the others find puzzling at best and irritating at worst- supposedly, she has yet to even be on civil terms with anyone else. Even Florida, who is normally on good terms with everyone, complains about her attitude coming through every time they interact.

Wash doesn't really understand it. He likes Tex; she's nice to him, and he's sure that if the others give her a chance she'll be nice to them too. He doesn't think there's anything special about him to make him stand out.

*

o/o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I made this CarWash because of Tex's actions, not Carolina's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash and Sigma go on their first mission together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to hurt.

o/o

*

Nearly a month after Wash's accident, Wash is given a position on their newest mission. They've tracked down the leader of the Resistance, and the Director wants to attempt to capture him, so they can get information about the resistance out of him. Wash feels his heart pounding when he hears: he was starting to feel like he'd never be allowed back in the field. But the medics have listed him as clear for active duty and the Director is insisting he's needed (which also makes his heart pound with excitement), and so once the pelican is prepped and ready Wash joins the rest of the squad in boarding.

At the top of the ramp he stops and stares at the inside of the ship. It's been cleaned, for the most part- scrubbed, by the looks of it- but there are barely visible stains splashed out from the center, extending almost to the wall in some places. Wash feels a little sick looking at them; Carolina just pokes him in the back to urge him forward, since he's standing in front of her.

“Now do you understand why we were so worried?”

He swallows hard. “That looks like a lot of blood.”

“And you lying far too still in the middle of it.” She pats his shoulder affectionately. “Pretty sure Niner had them leave those stains for your benefit. Or maybe she just got tired of people on her bird and kicked them out before they were done.”

“Left 'em for Wash,” Niner calls back from the cockpit. “As a reminder to him not to fucking scare me like that again!”

“Sorry,” Wash says sheepishly, moving up to peek through the door into the cockpit. “Next time I get my arm shot off, I'll make sure not to bleed so much or pass out.”

She gives him a look, like she's trying to figure out if he's serious or not, then shakes her head and turns back to her controls. “I wonder how loud I can make you scream on this ride?”

“You're an asshole!” Wash calls up to her, hurrying to his seat. He has no doubt that she absolutely means it.

*

The thought of the jetpacks terrifies Wash, but Sigma appears at his side and reassures him that he will help him with the controls. This helps a little, but doesn't do enough to knock away the anxiety brought on by everyone's comments about Georgia. (He has no idea what happened to Georgia- it was while he was in the medbay, and he's ashamed to admit that he hadn't even noticed the younger agent wasn't around anymore.)

They're drifting over for the attack when Sigma pulls at his attention and draws his gaze over to their left, to a loan figure in brown armor drifting away from the group. He slows down to watch her leave.

“Connie? What is she doing?”

_Something she shouldn't_ , Sigma says. _We should follow her._

Wash is hesitant- he has his orders, after all- but Sigma draws up the memory after memory of Wash's conversations with Connie lately, of her cryptic remarks and the way she's been so secretive.

_Didn't internals ask you about transmissions coming from the ship? They heavily implied that we had a mole among our ranks, correct?_

_Well, yes, but- Connie? She's our friend- she's a Freelancer. Why would she betray us?_

_Good question. We should go ask her._

_But the mission- we have to-_

_The mission is to bring back the leader of the resistance. If Agent Connecticut is indeed our mole, then she could lead us right to him._

_That's.... true. If Connie was a mole. Which she isn't._ Wash stops and changes his course, heading after Connie.  _And I'm going to prove it._

He has Sigma send Carolina a quick message about following a hunch, and shuts down his communications channels before she has a chance to yell at him. Whatever Connie is up to, he's going to prove that she isn't a mole.

He hopes.

*

Connie leads him to the junkyard, through a patch of debris to a hatch on what he initially thought was a derelict ship. He follows her through and along the corridors, sneaking past guards and patrols as they go.

_If she was a mole, don't you think they'd know about her and she wouldn't have to sneak?_

_Doubtful. There would only be a small handful of people who knew of her true status, even among her new allies. You'll note she seems to know the layout of this ship very well._

_Maybe she found a map. Or maybe she's completely lost and just guessing. This place is like a maze- I hope she can tell us how to get out, when we find her and she explains what she's actually doing._

_Your faith is admirable, but unfounded._

_Says you_ .

*

He manages to lose track of Connie at one point, but the sound of gunfire puts him back on the right path and he hurries down the corridor after it. He slows down as he approaches the open doorway; he can hear Connies voice inside, and a man's voice, unfamiliar and clearly worried.

“-were followed,” the voice says. “One of your Freelancer buddies.”

“I know. I had to keep him with me or he'd have alerted the others.”

“We've got the guards on him now. He won't escape.”

“I know. Just- don't hurt him. He means well.”

“Did he mean well when he got Terrence landed in the hospital? The army is full of people who mean well, Connie- at least they're pointing their guns at the enemy.”

“I just don't want to see him hurt.”

“I'll do what I can. Promise.”

This last sentence is accompanied by an armored figure stepping through the door and pointing his gun right at Wash; Wash realizes, belatedly, that a pair of guards are doing the same behind him.

_Sigma, you were supposed to warn me if someone was coming_ .

_Sorry._

Wash puts his hands up slowly, and falters when Connie joins them. She's shrunk in on herself, the way she does when she doesn't want to draw attention to whatever she's doing. Wash feels Sigma not saying 'I told you so' and feels his heart break a little.

“Connie... Connie, how _could_ you?”

“You shouldn't have followed me, Wash. Just come quietly, it won't be that bad if you do. Don't make him shoot you. He's still mad about the Sarcophagus heist.”

“I don't care if a _rebel_ is mad at me,” Wash snaps. “How long?”

“Rebel? Is that what they told you? Look, kid, I'm not-”

“I'm not a kid. And I don't talk to _rebels_.” He turns to Connie instead, who is preferable to this stranger, and tries to keep his voice even. He feels Sigma pouring fire into his words, tugging nerves here and there to help him. He wasn't aware he could do that- but right now it's helping. “Why would you betray us? I thought we were your friends- what happened to family?”

“I'm _sorry_ , Wash. I had to listen to my conscience. Project Freelancer is doing bad things- the Director isn't working for the good of humanity anymore, he's- well, he's working for the good of himself. It's not about winning the war anymore- I don't think he even _cares_ about that anymore.”

Wash almost snarls at that- he feels Sigma pulling his nerves again, calming him. “You think he doesn't- of course he wants to win the war! It's all he's ever wanted.”

“You really believe that, don't you?” There's pity in her voice, and that makes him angry- he doesn't want her to pity him, he wants her to stop saying all these things about the Director. “You said once he's given us everything- but what has he given us, really? Your AI? Your experimental biomechanical arm? Wash, wake up! You're just a data-point to him! He was testing it for- someone else, someone he wants to give that technology to more. He just wanted to see how it would run. That's all. That's all it ever is.”

“You're wrong.” His voice is wavering, despite Sigma's help. No matter how he tells himself she's wrong, she's speaking all of his insecurities out loud. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know a lot more than you do. He's broken the law, Wash, the _big_ one, the one they don't just slap you on the wrist for. And when it all hits the fan, the Freelancers will take the fall. You think when it comes down to it, it'll matter to him that you're his son? You think it matters to him _now_? You're going to take the fall for the things he's done, and he won't _care_.”

“You- you don't _understand_ , Connie.”

“But I _do_. Why don't you ask Sigma? He knows.”

Sigma appears at the sound of his name, as if on cue. “Hello, Agent Connecticut. How nice to see you. I wish the circumstances were more favorable.”

“Why don't you tell Wash where you go when the Director pulls you?”

“Why, for tests, of course. AI are the focus of Project Freelancer's studies, after all, and Dr. Church is one of humanity's finest minds where AI are concerned.” He flickers out, and reappears in the center of Connie's vision. “But Agent Washington already knows that. He and I have spoken extensively about the tests that I do.”

It's a lie, but Wash doesn't let on. It sounds like he and Sigma have a lot to talk about later- assuming they get a later, which currently isn't looking likely- but for now he won't let Connie see the way her words are impacting him.

_How in the world are we going to get out of this, Sig?_

_Keep her talking until the cavalry arrives, I suppose_ .

*

They're just wrapping up their initial attack on the hangar when the transmissions start.

“ _Did he mean well when he got Terrence landed in the hospital? The army is full of people who mean well, Connie- at least they're pointing their guns at the enemy.”_

“ _I just don't want to see him get hurt_. _”_

They all stop and look around at each other, bewildered, but already a message is coming in from Sigma at the same time. _Found Leader. CT is mole. W. captured, in need of assistance._ There are coordinates and a map accompanying, coordinates that lead to the boneyard. They all exchange another look and run, as one, in the direction of the hangar door.

*

“Wash, please just come quietly. Please. We can- we can talk later, I'll tell you everything I know about- about Project Freelancer, and you'll understand why I did it. But for now, just, please, _please_ don't kick up a fuss.”

“You think I care what a traitor has to say?” Wash says. “Because I don't. And that's all you are.”

“Then I'm sorry,” Connie says, and raises her gun.

The shots echo in the narrow corridor, but they don't come from Connie. She stares over Wash's shoulder, bewildered, as the two guards hit the floor. Blood pools around their lifeless bodies, and before Wash quite knows it Carolina is at his side. _God bless that speed unit_ , Wash thinks, and half-turns to greet her.

“What kept you?”

“We have to be careful with jetpacks after what happened to Georgia.”

“Are you going to _tell_ me what happened to Georgia?”

“You don't want to know.”

“I really do though!”

The banter is good, it grounds him after the way Connie's words have shaken him up. It's a relief to have Carolina at his side; he knows she'll have his back.

“Hi Carolina,” Connie says. “Wash and I were just talking.”

“I know. I heard every word. And you have no idea how wrong you are about _everything_.”

“I wish you would listen- both of you. It's going to hurt seeing you take the fall.”

“Then it's good that you'll never get the chance.”

*

York, North, and South appear from behind and between the five of them, they're able to grab both Connie and the leader. The MOI gives them covering fire as a distraction when they bring them both to rendezvous with the pelican and on their way back to the ship.

Wash doesn't really remember the details that well later. His ears are ringing and he feels sick; he can't stop thinking of Connie's words, at her insistence of the Director's crimes and at Sigma's secrecy about the tests that he runs. Of the sight of Connie raising her gun on him, ready to shoot him for not listening.

He has a little time before debriefing, when they get back to the ship. He spends that time throwing up in the bathroom off the training room, because he doesn't have time to get back to his own quarters and the privacy they afford. Maine meets him outside the bathroom when he emerges, holding a peppermint and a bottle of ginger ale with a curly straw sticking out of it. He takes them both and leans against Maine with a loud, long sigh.

“How could she have betrayed us like that?” he says. “I thought she was our friend. I thought she was _my_ friend. I don't understand.”

Maine rumbles softly and rubs soothing circles on Wash's back. Wash indulges that feeling for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath and straightens up. “All right, I should go to debriefing. I'm not looking forward to this...”

*

The first thing that happens when Wash walks into the briefing room is that he gets the first look of approval he's gotten from the Director in ages.

“Agent Washington, I'm told by Agent Carolina that it was you that followed Agent Connecticut and were able to uncover her betrayal before it was too late.”

“Yes sir,” he says quietly. “I- I saw her and hoped that- that she had some kind of hunch and didn't have time to tell us. I didn't realize she was going to betray us.”

“Agent Connecticut fooled all of us, Agent Washington. It only matters that you uncovered her acts.”

“Yes, sir,” he says again, and takes his position. “I also wouldn't have managed if not for Sigma, sir. He was the one who thought to transmit our conversation and coordinates to Agent Carolina.”

The Director makes a soft noise that Wash isn't sure how to interpret. “David, you spend all your time clamoring for my approval, and when I give it to you, you try to down-play your achievement.”

He squirms a little inside his armor. He's starting to hate when the Director calls him David. “I guess I would rather gain your approval for things that weren't just dumb luck.”

“Luck is an important trait to have in a soldier, David. And speaking as your father, not your boss, I am exceedingly fortunate that it is a trait you seem to possess in great quantities.”

The comment sends Wash's heart soaring in a way his approval never could, and gives him the nerve to ask what's on his mind. He feels Sigma helping him steady himself, and is heartened by his AI's support.

“Sir, can I ask you- why did you give me this arm? I know the technology is experimental, and I... I would have been fine with the regular kind. I wouldn't have minded.”

He looks a little surprised at the question, and Wash can tell he's stalling when he takes his glasses off and cleans them before answering.

“If you would like complete honesty-”

“I would appreciate it.”

“-I have had the opportunity to run tests with one of them for some time. You were the first person to need it since then, and I felt that if anyone would be able to master its use, it would be you. And I was correct, was I not? I'm told by your medics that you have made faster-than-normal progress in controlling your arm without Sigma's assistance.” He shifts to stare out at the leaderboard, and Wash follows suit and realizes that his name has moved up to number five. They both turn back to each other. “Any more questions, David?”

He's probably pushing his luck, but it's so rare that he gets to speak to his father instead of the Director, and Connie's words still are still ringing in his ears. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“Sir, on the ship- Connie said some things and I... I just wanted to ask... you _do_ still care about winning the war, right? I mean...”

He trails off, because the Director isn't looking him anymore, he's looking out at the leaderboard. Silence falls over them both, and Wash begins to wonder if he crossed a line, but eventually the Director turns back to him.

“This war took her away from me,” he says. “Away from us. Ending it has always been- and will always be- my first priority. You are dismissed, Agent Washington.”

*

Texas is waiting for him when he leaves the briefing room. She falls into step beside him as he makes his way down the corridor to the mess.

“Nice job today,” she says. He makes a noncommittal noise of agreement. She punches his shoulder affectionately. “I mean it. You did good. You should be proud.”

He stops and stares at her. “I found out today that my best friend is a traitor and a mole and may have never even been my friend at all. I know you think I did well, but I don't feel like I did _anything_ to be proud of.”

“No, you did. You followed a hunch and stuck to your guns and even if it hurts to be betrayed, better that you uncovered it than left her to continue passing on information. Who knows what the Insurrection might have learned if you hadn't.”

“Then why do I feel like I failed?”

“I guess it's because you're human.” They stop at the entry to the mess. “I'm gonna leave you alone now. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” She waves and heads off, and Wash realizes that he's never seen her in the mess. He wonders when she eats, or if she does it in private, and why.

“I bet Connie would know all about what's up with her,” he says, utterly dejected. Sigma appears at his side.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps she would insist she knew when she in fact didn't.”

“Sigma?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you go when the Director pulls you?”

“I already said, I go to run tests,” he says. He seems hesitant, and suddenly flickers out of sight. Wash looks for him in his head, and realizes that he's gone dark.

It looks like Sigma really is hiding something from him. Wash sighs, and turns to head back to his quarters. He suddenly doesn't have much of an appetite anymore.

*

o/o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought I was going to stick to the plot? Where's the fun in that?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some mentions of sex and some scenes that can be considered explicit depending on how you define it.

o/o

*

Wash doesn't sleep well that night, and by next morning he's cranky and hungry on top of it. He's thinking of going down to the brig and seeing Connie, maybe try to understand why she betrayed them, but at the same time he isn't sure he can handle listening to more of her remarks about the Director not caring about any of them.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost doesn't even realize that York looks as dejected as he does. As it is, Florida and North are sitting on either side of him, trying to cheer him up while he pokes his breakfast around on his plate. He doesn't look like he got that much sleep last night, either. Wash takes the seat across from him.

“Hey, York. Is everything okay?”

“Not really.” York rubs irritably at his bad eye and shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Florida and North exchange looks behind his head.

“York was there when they revealed the rebel leader's identity last night,” North says. “He's not taking it well.”

“Did you know him?”

“Something like that. He's my brother.”

“Oh.”

“Oh is right. What is he doing with the rebellion? What is he doing _leading_ the rebellion?” He pokes at his eggs once more, then pushes them away with a disgusted noise. “And the Director won't even let me into the brig to talk to him. I just want to understand.”

“I'm sorry,” Wash says quietly. York makes a 'tch' noise.

“Don't be. It's not your fault.”

“But I'm the one who found him.”

“Hey, we _all_ were on that mission. You were completing our objective, and way more than either of us can say.” He stands. “I have a session scheduled in the training room soon. Guess I should go get ready or something. Not really hungry anyway.”

York leaves, and Florida grabs the remainder of his breakfast just as South comes over and settles beside Wash. “Hurry up,” she says, poking him. “Maine is going in for implantation soon and I want to see him before he does.”

“I forgot that was today,” Wash says. He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh and begins eating faster. Sigma appears in front of him while he does.

“Good morning, Agent South,” he says pleasantly. “I hope all is well with you this morning.”

“Well, yesterday I found out my best friend is a traitor and today I've got to help get information out of her boyfriend while trying not to think too hard about how he managed to persuade her to betray us, but, yeah, I'm _pretty fucking great_.”

Wash swears Sigma is pouting. The AI adjusts his stance to a somewhat more formal one. “My apologies if I have upset you, Agent South. That wasn't my intention at all.”

South just grumbles, then shoves the rest of her bacon into her mouth and downs the last of her juice in one go. She grabs Wash's hand. “Come on, Washpot, I want a few minutes with Maine before they take him into surgery.”

She drags him away; Sigma remains behind, kicking irritably at the air in front of him. “She is very rude,” he says, the same pout in his tone. North laughs.

“Could be worse,” he says. “At least you got a hello. See you later,” he adds, as Wash leaves the room and Sigma's projection vanishes.

*

They get to Maine a few minutes before he's scheduled for surgery. Wash spends the time holding his hand and telling him everything he can remember from his own implantation, while South gives him little reassuring kisses that Wash suspects (but won't say) are more for her than for Maine. Then the medics appear and take him away, and Wash and South settle into the waiting room seats without a word.

He puts his hand over hers, twining their fingers together and giving her a comforting squeeze. “He'll be fine,” Wash says. “And he'll have a way to communicate with people who can't understand him already.”

“It's not that. I just... I've seen the way you are with Sigma. Sometimes you space out because you're talking to him in your head and not paying attention to what's going on around you. And now Maine will have the same issue but worse, because in his head he'll actually be able to verbalize and articulate and all that stuff he was always so bad at even when he could still do it. And I'll be out here with no one.”

“South, no.” He pulls her hand to his lips and presses a reassuring kiss to it. “We're still here, okay? And we still love you and- I'm sorry I space out and don't pay enough attention to you. I'm still working on it. But I'll get better. It just takes time. And by then you'll have an AI of your own, I'm sure of it.”

“I know, I'm just. Really _frustrated_. Not looking forward to interrogating the rebel leader later, either. But the Director wants me to try before he has to send in Florida.”

Wash shudders. Knowing South and knowing Florida, it's hard to believe that abrasive, caustic, easily-angered South is the _easy_ option for interrogations, while Florida- sweet, even-toned, voice-like-honey-and-smile-like-springtime- is the hard way.

“Well hopefully Connie warned him about what happens if he doesn't cooperate and he'll know to just answer your questions so he doesn't have to deal with Florida.”

“Yeah, hopefully. I hate seeing people after Florida gets done with them. I do _not_ want to know what he does in there.”

*

In the end, they're not able to stay long enough to wait for Maine to leave surgery. South has to interrogate the rebel leader, while Wash has a training session scheduled with Wyoming. They leave a note for Maine with the attending, reassuring him that they'll see him as soon as they can, and head off to their respective duties.

Sigma appears as soon as South is gone. “She doesn't like me very much,” he says. Wash sends him some reassurance through their link.

“She's just worried you're taking me away, and now Maine is getting an AI too. South doesn't share well, which I guess makes sense, since she and North have always shared everything and she so rarely gets things that are just _hers_.”

“Do you think she'll behave the same way towards Agent Maine's AI, when she meets him?”

“Probably.” Wash sighs. “I'm sorry. South is just... really hard to get close to.”

“You managed.”

“Yeah.” He can't help his smile at that. He would have never guessed, when he first started at Freelancer, that he would find himself completely head-over for the woman who seemed to take such pleasure in bullying him, but not a day goes by that he regrets falling for her. “I hope you can manage, too. It's worth it, when you can.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Sigma says, and vanishes.

*

Wash likes training with Wyoming. He's a goofy dork of a man, and he acts a bit like a dad at times, but he was a champion boxer in his youth and he has amazing accuracy with a sniper rifle. He's currently training Wash in the former, as the medics believe it will help him learn better control of his arm.

It's kind of nice, training one-on-one with Wyoming. He cracks jokes constantly, and Wash knows he plays up the English thing to amuse him.

“Let's stop for a break, old chap,” he says, and leans back enough to crack his back a little. “I'm not what I was in my younger days, you know. Reactions times not what they once were.”

Wash laughs and tosses him a water bottle from the fridge; despite Wyoming's words, he catches it without looking. “At least you don't need an AI just a move,” he points out, earning him a sympathetic smile. “And the Director knows you're best if you working from a distance, too.”

“Considerate, isn't he,” Wyoming says. Wash isn't sure, but he thinks he detects a tone of bitterness in Wyoming's voice- strange, since Wyoming is normally so loyal. Wyoming catches his frown, and smiles at him. “Don't mind me and my old man problems, lad.”

“Right...” Wash sits down on the bench and sips at his water thoughtfully. “Wyoming, you're good at being honest. Do you think Connie was lying about- about _everything_?”

“Well, that's the question, isn't it.” He sits heavily beside Wash, just close enough to be comforting, and takes a long drink of his own water before speaking. “Was she lying when she joined us on leave, when we watched movies together? What about when she listened to your insecurities? Was that simply part of her masquerade?”

Wash makes a soft, strangled noise, and Wyoming grips his arm reassuringly. “I'm certain she was lying when she said that your father cares nothing for you.”

Wash frowns. “How did you..?”

“Sigma was transmitting your conversation to the entire team. We all heard.”

“Oh.” Wash stands and crumples his water bottle with a grumpy noise- Sigma sends an extra burst of strength through the wires and he crushes it into little more than a small plastic tube, which he finds very satisfying. “We should- we should get back to work.”

“As you say.” Wyoming looks almost saddened, but he grabs his helmet and follows Wash back onto the training room floor.

*

South is on edge when he sees her again later, after lunch. She's almost vibrating with rage and when she shoves him against the wall enough to leave a dent, all he does is unclip both of their helmets and let them fall to the floor with a clang. She kisses him hard enough to bruise, leaves more bruises on his neck and arms and hips, when his armor and undersuit have been pulled away.

They don't say much; they forgo their usual foreplay in favor getting right to it. He spins them and lifts her up onto his hips, supporting her against the wall while he drives into her, quick and hard. It's not how he likes it- he likes it best when she's feeling playful and frisky, when she teases and draws it out, but he knows that this is what she needs right now, that it's not about pleasure but frustration, so he gives her what she needs and holds her when they've finished.

He buries his face in her neck, sucks gently at her skin, slick and salty with sweat. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, when she lets her feet drop to the floor and leans into him. “What do you need?”

“Nothing- nothing, just, hold me.”

Wash nods, then backs away and picks her up, carrying her over to the bed so they can settle down together. She curls into him and he strokes her hair, glad that she's finally stopped shaking.

“She said we were being brainwashed,” South says eventually. “That the Director was just using us.”

“He had you interrogate Connie?” Wash tightens his hold on South briefly, but she shakes her head.

“No, I went to see her before I talked to her boyfriend. I was hoping that- maybe she could help me understand _why_. But she just kept saying she had to listen to her conscience, that he broke the law and she wasn't going to take the fall for him.”

“What does she think her boyfriend did?” Wash feels a headache trying to come on. “Were you at least able to get enough info out of him without having to send in Florida?”

“Nnnnope.” She seems oddly satisfied by that. “He thought I was the bad cop,” she adds. “I guess Connie never listened when I talked about interrogations. He thought I was the hard option.”

The topic is making him uncomfortable. He decides to switch track. “You think Maine is out of surgery yet?”

“He was in testing when I stopped by on my way up,” she says. “Should be done by the time we get there.”

“Let's head down, then.” He pulls her to her feet and into a long, tender kiss. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“It's what I'm here for,” he says, kissing her once more before going to collect his armor.

*

Maine is still in testing when they arrive, but they don't have to wait long before he's coming out, looking a little groggy but otherwise in good spirits. He gives them a smile when they come over, and before any of them can get a word in, a little purple figure appears in front of him, then vanishes and reappears behind him, peering shyly at them around his head. He gives the figure a soft, encouraging hiss, and it pulls behind his head fully.

“It seems kinda... small,” Wash says. Beside him, South snorts.

“Remember when you said that about Maine?” she says quietly, earning her a glare from Maine. He turns to his AI with a huff that has both his lovers laughing.

It takes some coaxing, but eventually the AI consents to come out and meet them both. He shuffles shyly, kicking at the ground and wringing his hands behind his back.

“Hi,” he says quietly. “I'm Theta.”

“Nice to meet you Theta. I'm Wash, and this is South.”

“I know. Maine thinks about you both a lot.”

“Really? You've only been implanted for an hour.”

“Yeah. Like I said. A lot.”

His words have brought up a faint tinge to Maine's cheeks, but Wash is touched. He's never doubted that Maine cares for them both, but to hear it spoken aloud- Maine has never been very good at expressing his emotions. It leaves Wash grinning; he can see South smiling beside him, and is relieved that she seems in much brighter spirits than before.

There's a flare and a spark, and Sigma appears. He seems smug, and it occurs to Wash that he didn't think to pull the AI when he and South were fucking earlier.

_Sigma._

_You should have said something, if you didn't want me to watch._

_You know I want to keep that personal._

_I'm in your head, Agent Washington. I see everything eventually._

_Next time I'm pulling you._

_As you like._ There's a pause, and Wash is dimly aware of him speaking with Theta.  _South makes very beautiful noises, doesn't she?_

_Not. Another. Word_ .

Sigma hums softly in assent, and turns his full attention to Theta, who has loosened up somewhat now that Sigma is speaking to him.

“You're scheduled for equipment tests in the training room now, correct, Agent Maine? I'm interested in seeing what Theta is capable of.”

“Right,” Theta says, and half turns to Maine, who hisses softly. “Is everyone going to watch?”

“It's important to know what all other members of the team are capable of,” Sigma says. “We should know everything we can about each other. Right, Agent Washington?”

In their shared headspace, Wash just fumes, while Sigma gives off an air of smugness and coaxes them off toward the training room.

*

After the tests with Theta- which go excellently, Theta making the complex calculations necessary to run Maine's strength unit against the drones that Delta sends in to fight him- Wash finally decides to head down to the brig. He wants to talk to Connie, and maybe without her holding a gun on him he can actually succeed in getting some answers.

He glances in on the leader when he passes by him; he doesn't linger, but he sees enough to see that the man is clearly shaken from whatever Florida did to him- shaken, but unmarked. Wash shakes his head. He doesn't want to know anything about Florida's methods.

Connie looks surprised to see him, but she disguises that quickly. She gets up and saunters over to the forcefield keeping her contained.

“I suppose you've come to guilt trip me too,” she says. “South was already here, and Tex stopped by and stared at me for awhile before leaving. I guess it's your turn?”

“I just want to understand,” Wash says. “You lied to us. You can't blame us for being hurt.”

“I tried to warn you. I told you things were going to start falling apart.”

“You didn't say you were going to be the catalyst for that!”

“I'm not! I'm just trying to get out! Wash, you don't _understand_.”

“Then help me understand!” He pinches the bridge of his nose irritably. “Could you just- stop being cryptic for _five minutes_ and just... talk to me?”

“Trying to find out how much I know?”

“I'm just trying to understand. I thought we were friends.”

“We were. Just.. it wasn't enough in the face of what I learned.”

He just stares pointedly at her. She stares back, before finally sighing.

“Do you promise to actually listen?”

“No. But I'll let you talk.”

“All right.” She sits down on the cot in her cell. “I guess that's all I'm going to get. I....” She trails off, and takes a moment to compose her thoughts. “I started to get suspicious because of the leaderboard scoring. It's so... erratic, so arbitrary.”

“The leaderboard? Is that what this is about?”

“You said you'd let me talk?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“I started to get suspicious about the leaderboard scoring, but that only made me think the Director had ulterior motives. So I... did a little digging. Wanted to see if I was right. And I dug up so much worse. This equipment, our weapons, our armor enhancements, they're all stolen! Stolen and reverse engineered, and we're the ones testing them.”

“We already knew we were an experimental program, and if our weapons are stolen from our enemy, I'm not too upset about that. It just means we have a better idea of what's coming to us.”

“What about the AI?”

“What about them? We need them to run our equipment. That's part of our program. It's what we signed up for.”

“Yes, but the Director was only given one AI to run his experiments- and now you have one, Maine has one, York has one... Carolina's going to get one soon, and Tex-” She breaks off. “Tex is something else entirely.”

“Why does everyone dislike Tex so much? She's nice.”

“She's nice to you.”

“She'd be nice to everyone else, if they weren't so hostile to her. I was nice to her, and that paid off.”

“Maybe. Or maybe there's more to it than just you being nice to her.”

“You're being cryptic again.”

“I can't tell you everything, Wash.”

“Why? If you don't tell me, you'll just have to tell Florida. And your boyfriend is already pretty shaken after just one session with him.”

“He's tough. He can handle Florida- and so can I.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes.”

“And you're not going to tell me whatever it is you know about Tex?”

“I can't.”

“Then I guess our five minutes are up.”

“I guess so.”

They stare at each other for a few more minutes. It's Wash who looks away this time, turns to leave. Connie holds up a hand.

“Wait- Wash- I wasn't lying about being your friend. All of that- it was- it was real. I really do care about you. That's why I want you to listen- so you don't have to get hurt.”

“I'm not going to betray my team, Connie. Whatever cryptic remarks you make.”

“Then I'm sorry.”

“So am I.” He sighs, and turns to go, for real this time.

He feels Sigma sending consoling tones through his mind as he leaves, warmth and reassurance resonating in their shared brainspace. A tired smile tugs at his lips.

_Thanks, Sig._

_Anytime_ .

*

South and Maine are waiting for him in his quarters when he gets back. He steps into Maine's open arms gratefully, feels South at his back rubbing reassuring circles into his shoulders.

This time, he remembers to pull Sigma first.

*

o/o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is the part where you send in the good cop, right? I know how interrogations work."  
> South just laughs, and leans down, right into his personal space. "Oh honey." She smiles, a wicked grin, a malicious grin. " _I am the good cop._ "


End file.
